Chapter Six
The din of the packed courtroom assaulted Bryce’s ears after the quiet of the jail cell. Folk in Balloch obviously found great sport in seeing poor unfortunates sent down. Bryce was led in and met with a chorus of boos and some gasps from the ladies present. Arrogantly, he decided he was by far the finest specimen to grace the courtroom in quite some time.
When Bryce was shoved into the dock and clapped eyes on the presiding judge shuffling parchments on his desk, his face broke into a grin. The fellow was plump, with a bulbous port-wine nose sporting a wart on the end of it - an unmistakable visage.
‘Laird MacKellar, how lovely to see you again,’ he shouted across the din.
‘Silence,’ said the judge, without looking up. ‘You will address me as ‘Your Honour’ and be quiet until you are spoken to.’
‘Where was it we last met, Laird?’
‘Be quiet, Sir,’ snapped the judge, glancing up with irritation. His eyes widened in alarm when they lit on Bryce.
‘Oh, I cannot seem to recall the time, but the place I remember most clearly, and the company too, and as to ‘Your Honour’, well....’
The judge cleared his throat and blanched.
‘Oh, I do recall it now,’ said Bryce. ‘Was it not in Parry Street in Inverness? Not the best part of town. I was well in my cups, and I burst into a….’
‘Silence in the dock,’ bellowed Laird MacKellar, rising from his seat.
Bryce gave a little bow. ‘My apologies for prattling on. If we might speak in private, I am sure we can resolve this misunderstanding like gentlemen.’ He paused. ‘After all, I have my reputation to think about, and a man can’t have a stain on his character now, can he?’
The man’s jaw worked, and the crowd fell silent and leant in. He had caused a stir, for the accused rarely spoke back to authority, so they anticipated something scandalous about to happen. That all worked in his favour.
‘Your Honour, I am sure many who frequent this courtroom have committed far more heinous deeds than I,’ said Bryce turning to the onlookers, who jeered and booed. His eyes caught another familiar face. ‘This fellow here, for instance.’ Bryce indicated a well-dressed man seated at a small table scribbling away furiously. ‘He has the look of a deviant to me, Your Honour.’
‘That, Sir, is the scribe of the court,’ barked the judge.
Everyone laughed, and Bryce turned to the crowd and winked at a pretty lass in the front row.
Laird MacKellar sighed. ‘Curse it that I should have to preside over your sentencing, villain. Very well. If you will not be silent.’ He gestured to Maggot, lurking at the back of the courtroom. ‘Take him away to my chambers.’
Bryce was led to a room at the back of the jail to disappointed jeers from his audience. There was a fire blazing in the hearth, and he rushed to it to warm himself just as Laird MacKellar burst in.
‘So, you rogue. What is it you want from me?’ said the judge with the downturned mouth of an angry bulldog.
‘Nothing much, save my freedom.’
‘You almost killed a redcoat officer. Broke his damned jaw. The English at Fort George are baying for blood, not to mention a certain widow by the name of Meg Talbot who says you were taken by a murderous rage and had her servant not coshed you, a terrible tragedy would have occurred.’
‘Aye, well, I had provocation. And we all make mistakes, as did you when you forgot to lock that door of the whorehouse. I recall very well bursting in with a friend to find you, to my great surprise, bending a young man over a chaise. And I believe you were about to….’
‘Enough, or I shall have you gagged and swinging from a gibbet at Moy Crossing.’ Laird MacKellar looked close to a spasm, so red was his face. ‘That will shut your slanderous mouth forever, Cullan.’
‘Ah, but I’ve good friends in high places. Laird Callum Ross can back me up in this matter. His memory is far better than mine, and I can rely on him to remember the exact facts if you take my meaning. I do fear what he will do once he has been told of my untimely death at your command and for what is a minor offence, too, Laird MacKellar. There is also the matter of your old, rather sizeable debt at cards for which I have not pressed for payment. What to do about that?’ said Bryce rubbing his chin and frowning.
‘This is not to be borne.’
Bryce narrowed his eyes. ‘Now, I am sure I can make amends for that minor indiscretion with the redcoat. Why don’t we just talk this over, man to man, as gentlemen?’
‘Bah, gentlemen, indeed. You are certainly not worthy of that name, Bryce Cullan,’ huffed Laird MacKellar, but he took a seat and glared. ‘Go on then. Say your piece and be done with it.’
Sometime later, Laird MacKellar had resentfully agreed to Bryce’s release.
‘Be gone from my court and from Balloch before I change my mind, you blackguard, and be sure to hold your tongue,’ he snarled.
‘I will, and you have my thanks and my silence. There was just one more thing.’
